The time to rouse comes too early, and the greatest of the many aches in my body is the one in my heart. I glance over the sleeping pair next to me, in the few moments I have before they also stir from slumber. My heart skips beats as I observe their slumbering forms. Tiktik’s delicate, rounded features are pure beauty that I’m trying to commit to memory, despite knowing she can switch them up a bit with Fae glamour. The gentle rise and fall of her chest is captivating, as are the beads of sweat rolling down her exposed neck, from the shared body heat of the three of us in such confined quarters. Her face is buried in her mass of lustrous hair, and so I reach over, to brush it back behind her impish, pointed ears. Tiktik reacts, almost unconsciously, murmuring, with her eyelids fluttering, but not quite opening, as her cheek presses itself up against my palm while my thumb strokes her brow.

Even as I lay here, shaking and quivering in fear of uncertainty, I’m preparing an enhanced spell from my archsorc staff. I’m uncertain whether it would be better to leave while Tiktik’s asleep, to rouse her to say goodbye, or to risk waiting until she awakens herself. The longer I wait, the harder it will be to say goodbye, and we’re at the point where nearly every moment counts. Yet even with my life on the line, hanging in a fragile balance, I can’t tear my gaze off of the lovely, impish Fae woman. Her immense bounty of orange hair has basically flooded the entire tent, blanketing the three of us in an almost glowing warmth. Each strand shines like the finest silk, and is as smooth as porcelain, yet soft as down. In another life, I would stay with Kitten, and face what apocalypses came our way as we found comfort in each other, being ultimately together for the time we had left.

It’s not that different from how in some other life, I’d have taken up a duty at the Enochian Enclave, and perhaps been willing to start a family with Alanea. There are people that I’ve fallen in love with, that likely won’t be at my side when I die, and my death looms nigh. Or is the sentiment better expressed as my death fast approaches? I’m not sure that it matters.

While those that I’ve fallen in love with, I could analyze and reminisce over their beauty every moment that I have left, there are more people whose beauty I left unappreciated, without falling in love. Hellga, before her grievous injuries, though stocky, burly, and compact, was lovely in a fashion. She still is, in some sense, looking past the injuries. Miza is a sleek reptilian beauty, Dippy’s egg twin, and she has a loving, overprotective husband that happens to be a xenophobic, cowardly bully. The fitting attendant at the fineries shop in Autumn Brook, a woman I’d only spied for an instant as she offered a tip to Teuila, was a raven-haired lass with curves aplenty, and a bright smile with adorable buck-teeth, large round glasses, and a smattering of freckles. George and Tiago are handsome elderly men. Tiago is a bit gangly, and lanky, but still surprisingly fit, while George has a rugged, almost-athletic handsomeness that doesn’t quite fit his position as a records manager. He has the build of an ex-soldier, between his stature, his posture, his short haircut, and well trimmed facial hair. Hell, Keeley, the wall of a woman that she is, is an impressive sight. She’s bulky, with hidden muscle, but the softness on her frame, the fat and tender flesh that hides her impressive muscle, is well worn. Her hair is kept in a tidy, no-nonsense bun that suits her strict jawline, and complements her stern face.

There were several members of the Enochian Enclave that were beauties to behold, and I can see how Flint might end up ogling them with his accidentally-lecherous gaze, as awkward as that may be. One such member of the Enochian Enclave wishes me ill, a lovely young dryad. I’m never quite certain on Fae in terms of youth or maturity, but I assumed she was young, based on her height, and the unforgiving nature of her vitriol at me. It seemed less like she was simply a hostile personality, and more like she had a lover, or romantic partner that had almost been harmed by Sindred. It was clear that she blamed me for Sindred’s attack, since I was the one announcing the duel in order to clear the stairwell.

All of that, and those are only a few of the wonderful, handsome, beautiful people who’ve crossed my path in the last few months. Back home on Can’Z’aas, there was Teodora, Teddy, whom I think might have begun a relationship with Spice, who was also in a relationship with Magnus. Teddy was tomboyishly good looking, brilliant, slender, fit, and an excellent architect, engineer, and supervisor. Priscilla, despite being an enemy is another person whose striking appearance I can’t deny had a certain appeal. She was stately, and despite the haggard situation she found herself in, always managed to look well-kept, for the most part. There was Morgan, captain of the Undyne, like Tiago and George, he was a handsome, lovely older man, who wore his years well, with smile lines that lent an air of friendliness and compassion to his features. There’ve been so many lovely people across my lives.

All these thoughts are simply to try to distract me from the ethereal beauty that lays before me. They’re to remind me that beauty itself isn’t rare, that almost everyone possesses it in some ways, and yet—. And yet I can’t tear my eyes from Tiktik’s slightly cherubic cheeks that currently slightly mirror mine. I can’t help gazing down her slender neck and collarbone. I can’t help taking in the teal hue of her soft flesh and marveling at the fantastical skin tone that could only be born of Fae heritage. I can’t help marveling at her brilliant orange hair that seems almost alive as the chilly Rayileklian air sends loose strands flitting about inside the miniature tent that’s barely more than a sleeping bag. I strive to burn the image of her, in this serene, peacefully breathing, sleeping state, into my memories. I don’t want to lose her, or to never see her again, or to die without this loyal, beloved friend that she is, at my side, but—. But the image of her will have to suffice.

I begin working to extricate myself from our tangle of limbs, my eyes flooding with tears as I do so. It pains me greatly to be leaving, and I want to spare Teuila and Tiktik every moment of that pain that I possibly can. I want them to awaken in each other’s arms, and to say their farewell in whatever manner best befits them. My heart hammers in my chest, yearning to stay, to say goodbye, to rail against circumstance, yet I have to calm the raging organ, the struggling muscle. I find it difficult to even breathe, under the oppressive weight of the looming parting of ways.

I barely make it out of the tent, but the blast of cold, damp air that heralds my exit wakes the two wonderful women, causing me yet another small burst of heartache. My silent sonar detects the tears on their faces, and I can’t hide my own, so I let them flow freely. I’m blindsided as a gangly figure approaches swiftly from the edge of my sensory range, one whose humble robes assure me that he means well.

I sink into Tiago’s embrace as he chides, “I had a suspicion. You were going to try to leave, without saying goodbye, weren’t you? I won’t try to convince you to stay, but please, please finish your journey, and come back to us. Survive, find a cure, return to be welcomed as the hero that you are to us. I beg of you, my young, old friend.”

I gulp down saliva and choke back a sob as I nod briefly at Tiago. I desperately wish I could promise him that I will do just that. I want to be able to assure him, to be positive that I will succeed, but I’m more certain of how much more likely I am to perish than to succeed. I don’t want to lie to him. He lost Aces, he lost his hometown, and then Autumn Brook. He’s likely lost many patients over the years. Tiago has endured so much loss, and yet I can’t even offer the poor man any assurances. I don’t think I ever even got the story of how his hometown came to be gone, or why they weren’t strictly Aasimovians, but I can’t muster the energy to ask such a possibly deep question now.

Teuila and Tiktik follow me into the gloomy air, and Teuila gently bumps Tiago’s right bicep with her fist before muttering an ominous order, “Keep everyone alive, okay Santiago? Especially Tiki. If she’s not better by the time we get back, we’ll be having words.”

Tiago balks, and blinks in surprise at the seriousness of the demand, and its vaguely threat-like sound. Only momentarily though, because Teuila and Tiktik can’t keep themselves straight-faced for long, before short titters escape their lips, one, then the other, then back again, which results in a fit of the giggles for the two. Tiago, for his part, claps his hand to his forehead, and lets out a half laugh, half sigh of relief. He shakes his head in mock exasperation at Teuila for a moment before sighing once again, and nodding.

Tiago responds, “It doesn’t do well to give the treating physician a heart attack my dear miss Shellcracker. Teuila my dear, yours is the more difficult duty, and we all know it. You’re our heroes, come back to us alive, in one piece. Even if you can’t manage to save the world, at least do that much.”

My heart catches in my throat at the sentiment. The idea that we might somehow live through failure to stop the apocalypses never really crossed my mind. Is there honestly even the slimmest chance, that we might somehow survive, while facing things set in motion that we cannot stop? Would we then while away our remaining time as the world ends around us, in the company of beloved friends? I don’t think I could survive my own mental distress at the idea of leaving things lie, without fighting back, or putting some grand plan into motion that saves everyone somehow.

Could we possibly create a shield of lacrimosa trifecta here on Rayileklia? Does Rayileklia have remotely similar ley lines? There’s a whole subterranean world here we haven’t explored in the slightest, could it contain the necessary materials? We would need to find Mataalii, and somehow convince him to spend months agonizingly using his Can’Z’aasian powers to produce millions of cubic meters of lava, if that would even be possible. It took some of the most powerful people in the world, using their magic to the point of almost destroying them, constantly, for months, to put together the majority of the shield of the lacrimosa trifecta, without even finishing all the stabilizing touches, on Can’Z’aas. Would we even have the remotest chance in all the hells to accomplish a similar feat on Rayileklia?

Tiktik’s mental avatar’s eyes have been alight, gleaming with curiosity and hope, at my train of thought, but she has remained silent until now. Tiktik just meekly asks, “However things work out, whatever your plan is in the end, please find your cure, and come see us, at least one more time?”

My telepathic avatar wraps its arms around Kitten’s avatar, and looses a shuddering sigh, fighting off sobs. I respond as best I’m able, “I’ll try my best Kitten. That’s the most I can promise. Please forgive me—.”

The unspoken words, “if I fail,” linger in our minds, as we both understand the dire implications. In meatspace, there’s a group hug occurring that is rife with unspoken tension, the fear of loss. The grips within the hug are all desperate, a clinginess that speaks the words we fear to say to each other. Our embrace betrays the idea of our fond farewell being temporary. We each grasp this moment together as if it may be our last, because the unspoken, unadmitted truth, is that it very well may be. This is where, and when we part ways. If our paths should cross again, we can’t possibly predict at the time of this parting. There’s too much uncertainty, too little hope to go around. The stakes are as high as they’ve ever been.

With a desperate subconscious attempting to fight off the dire thoughts, I break off my part of the embrace that we share. Teuila follows suit, leaving Tiktik standing sadly with Tiago’s hand resting on her shoulder, his taller stature dwarfing the Fae woman. It barely registers, but as we part, Kitten, Teuila and I all touch our lips, as if we could somehow preserve the kisses we shared in the night.

I unleash the potential of the spell I’d been preparing, coating my mind in the telekinesis enchantment, and drop my Valkyrie buckler, the shield, to the ground. I step into the arm buckles, and the equipment’s size changing properties cause the shield and its straps to shift, as if it were made for this. It’s now shaped more like a kite shield, coming to a rather drastic point out front, and my feet are comfortably locked into a perfectly balanced position, leaving just enough room to quickly disengage from the straps if necessary. I lift myself away at an angle towards Rayileklia’s stormy skies, in a northerly direction, angling around the Altross manor.

Teuila kisses the air in the direction of Tiktik, not blowing a juvenile kiss so much as subconsciously acting out the yearning that she has, even at this moment of our parting. Kitten nods understandingly as she flashes a weak smile in our direction. Teuila struggles, and finally manages to tear her eyes off of Tiktik, and with that, she’s gone in an instant, rocketing away in the direction I’m heading, leaving me to catch up. We depart the Aasimovian refugees, trusting their safety in the hands of unknown harefolk, but also the hands of a supremely powerful sorceress, our dear, beloved, zany goofball Tiktik. I hope she can finally start being herself again, pranking people, telling dumb jokes, and just enjoying all that life has to offer when the refugees begin to settle in the ruins of Jeegoobotstan.